One of the best films of 1995, Casino reveals the dark side of Sin City. In a glitzy opening sequence that has deliberate echoes of Goodfellas’ Copacabana interlude, Scorsese glides a Steadicam over the city’s opulent civic portrait, then enters the shady inner circle of Sam “Ace” Rothstein (Robert De Niro) and his crew in the money counting room of the Tangiers. Skimming the till is an art form, and Ace countenances it as long as the kickbacks go to his old-school mob bosses in Kansas City.

Casino is a frank, unflinching tale of greed and corruption, but the movie also has an undercurrent of sadness as it follows Ace and his associates on their slow road to destruction. As a result, it’s one of the more emotionally complex movies of the era.

When you walk into a casino, you’re not just entering a building—you’re stepping into a psychological maze that was built with precision. Each carpet swirl, each missing clock, every ringing slot machine is a silent conversation between architecture and your brain. It’s a way for casinos to short-circuit the rational, calculating part of your brain and trigger an emotional, impulsive response.

While Casino is about gambling, it’s really about relationships and the betrayals that can occur between people when their lives become intertwined. As always, Sharon Stone is fantastic—this is perhaps her most layered performance. But the movie is also anchored by Joe Pesci’s utterly convincing portrayal of a gangster who lets anger dictate his actions.